


Jules and Mabel

by Inisheer



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Cop AU, F/F, brooklyn 99 au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-20
Updated: 2017-05-20
Packaged: 2018-11-02 23:56:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10955409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inisheer/pseuds/Inisheer
Summary: Alex Danvers and Maggie Sawyer are partners. Colleagues. Coworkers. They are not “practically in love already”, thank you Kara, and Alex is not going to ask Maggie out.The cop-partners/Brooklyn 99 AU someone really did ask for, believe it or not.





	Jules and Mabel

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired, unintentionally, by @murdershegoat. (Hi!)
> 
> Secondary Karolsen, untagged because the world has been cruel enough to Karolsen shippers.

**NYPD, Brooklyn, Police Science Division**

**Break Room, 9.00am**

‘It’s never going to work.’

Four heads huddled over the plastic table, where a series of electronic parts lay scattered around a larger device. Kara, James and Maggie held their breath while Winn muttered under his, trying to force a screwdriver into one of the contraption’s panels.

The person who’d spoken was Alex, leaning by the counter with a mug of scalding coffee in her hands. She continued, ‘You can’t wire that camera in and expect it not to overload the circuits. It wasn’t designed for it.’

Kara pouted at her big sister. Always such a killjoy, with her _logic_ and her _in-depth knowledge of electronics._

Winn got the panel open, spent a few minutes mucking around with the wires, and started pulling the assembled parts from across the table until they had all been screwed in, tacked on or otherwise attached to either the drone or its controller. He tossed the controller to Kara and flipped the drone upright. It now looked quite beetle-like, with a black eye poking through a newly-cut hole in its side. Winn held it in the palm of one hand and gave Kara a thumbs-up.

It flew fine until she tried the new switch to activate the camera, at which point the drone stalled mid-air, recovered itself, made a noise like a lightbulb exploding and dropped straight down into Maggie’s (horrific) breakfast.

Alex snorted and hid behind her coffee.

‘Wipe that smug look off your face, Danvers,’ said Maggie, picking the drone up with the care she might give to a giant spider and handing it back to Winn.

Alex put her hand to her heart. ‘Smug? I’m hurt, Maggie. I really thought we were friends.’

‘You’re impossible.’

‘Oh, come on. Admit you like me, Sawyer.’

Maggie smacked her in the arm. She flashed Alex a disdainful look and departed with quiet dignity, heedless of the others’ stifled laughter. Once Alex had headed off in the opposite direction, James said quietly, ‘It’s almost the end of May.’

‘And?’

‘I hope you’re looking forward to paying up, Danvers.’

Winn, poking sadly at his drone, nodded in agreement with James. Kara swung back on her chair, and smiled sweetly at the boys. ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about.’

**The Bullpen, 1.00pm**

‘Hey, Kara. How’s the bodega case been coming along?’

Kara pushed her glasses up her nose and flashed her older sister a proud-of-herself grin. ‘Open and shut. Just need a couple of lab results before we can get the arrest warrant.’

‘Good.’ Alex dropped an armful of files onto Kara’s messy desk. ‘In that case you can fill out all your paperwork while you’re waiting, can’t you?’

Kara blanched. ‘You know, on second thought, there were a few things about the crime scene I should probably take a better look at –‘

Alex placed her hands on Kara’s shoulders before she could rise from her chair. Putting on her Eliza Voice, she said, ‘Come on, Kara, the sooner you do it the sooner it’s done.’

Kara huffed. She glanced up at Alex, then scanned around the bullpen, maybe looking for an escape. It didn’t seem hopeful. Most people were deep in their own work. Winn was twirling a pen around his fingers.

Alex’s eyes were drawn to movement as Maggie Sawyer emerged from the corridor leading to the evidence room. No, it wasn’t the case that she couldn’t keep her eyes off Maggie, pfft, that was ridiculous. Kara must have caught sight of Maggie at the same moment, because she took in a deep breath and shouted, ‘Detective Sawyer! Don’t you think we should have another look at the bodega scene?’

‘What for? Open and shut case,’ Maggie called back.

Alex stood back, folding her arms in victory. ‘Thank you, Maggie. See, Kara,’ she continued loudly, ‘You know Maggie’s one of the best cops in Brooklyn –‘

One of the best cops in Brooklyn promptly tripped over a wastebasket.

Every head in the vicinity whipped round at the sound of the crash, to watch Maggie Sawyer, stumbling, catch herself on the edge of Detective Olsen’s desk and straighten up. She froze for a moment, lips pursed, then performed a sharp right turn and disappeared into the break room. Alex watched her go with a sick feeling. It wasn’t like Maggie to be clumsy. It _really_ wasn’t like her to flee from potential embarrassment instead of laughing it off –

‘Woah. What’s wrong with her?’ asked Kara, in an echo of Alex’s own thoughts.

‘I don’t know. Maybe I should go and see. But it’s Maggie, you know she likes to handle things on her own – what do you think?’

‘Talk to her. Ask her out. Ask her to marry you.’

‘Kara.’

‘You know you want to.’

Alex shook her head. ‘I am going to ask my _friend_ and _colleague_ if she has a problem I can help her with. And what are you going to do?’

‘Fill out my paperwork,’ said Kara. She pouted, but half-heartedly, and gave Alex a shove. Alex shoved her back and went.

She wasn’t going to ask Maggie out. She’d told Kara – who understood, even if she insisted on teasing about it. Alex needed to make sure Maggie was okay, that was the most important thing, and maybe talk about whatever had caused her to act like that, if it was something she wanted to talk about, and –

‘Detective Danvers! In here, please!’

Aaand she’d made the mistake of walking right past the captain’s door. Maggie would have to wait. Gritting her teeth, Alex headed into the office. ‘Yes, sir.’

Captain, ahem, Henshaw gestured for her to sit. He’d been absent all morning, leaving Alex to corral the division into some kind of order and deal with everything from journalists to printer disputes, at the expense of her own work. The captain’s job was not one she envied. This was what she told him when he asked for an update.

‘You seem to have handled things well enough,’ said J’onn. ‘Nothing’s on fire.’

‘At this precise moment,’ Alex clarified. This earned her a smile. Henshaw – only J’onn when there was nobody in earshot – was clearly none the worse for whatever had taken him away from the division all morning; but he just as clearly had no intention of telling Alex what it was, and that troubled her. As if she didn’t have enough to worry about.

‘Maybe you should put Olsen in charge next time. He’d appreciate the chance to take the lead, and he likes desk work more than I do.’ He’d also be less likely to make a rookie cry with threatened disembowelment. Not that this was an unusual occurrence; but captains, Alex thought, were supposed to have more restraint. She smiled and nodded through the remainder of his points, demonstrating _great_ restraint, truly, it was prizeworthy (what the hell was up with Maggie?), until she heard him blessedly say, ‘On you go.’

‘Thank you, sir.’

Good. Now she could get back to –

No. No, she couldn’t, because J’onn had picked this precise moment to emerge from his office (right behind her) and call a full-bullpen meeting. Winn spun over in his chair. Kara and James leaned shoulder-to-shoulder against Alex’s desk. Alex edged her way out from the captain’s shadow to join them.

‘Good afternoon, children,’ said J’onn.

A, ‘Good morning, captain!’ cut through the chorus of, ‘good afternoons,’ and a knot in Alex’s chest unravelled. Maggie seemed much chirpier than she’d been a couple of minutes ago. She was all right. In fact, meeting her smile, the panic Alex had initially felt seemed silly. Everybody had accidents, didn’t they? Maybe Maggie had needed a moment to compose herself. Maybe she’d thought it was the best way to retain her poise and badass reputation. Maybe Alex should _talk to her_ instead of running in mental circles.

‘We’ve got an alien victim of what looks like attempted homicide over in Bensonhurst,’ said J’onn. ‘Danvers Senior, Sawyer, you’ll take the case to start with. Danvers Junior, how’s that paperwork coming along?’

*

Kara Zor-El could speak fourteen languages to varying degrees of fluency. Five of them were from Earth. One was an ancient Kryptonian tongue with six different genders. One required vector calculations on the fly to select the correct case endings. Between them they used eight unrelated writing systems.

She couldn’t spell in any of them.

It hadn’t mattered on Krypton, where the notion of sitting down and writing things out by hand had been hilariously obsolete and software language aids nearly flawless. It mattered less when she was writing: spellcheck was crude by comparison, but it upgraded her work from a hopeless embarrassment to a mistake-spotted mess, and people were always happy to proof-read if she asked nicely or bribed them with cake.

Paperwork, though? Nobody wanted to proof-read her paperwork. And no mistakes were to be tolerated. Every “i” had to be dotted, every “t” crossed, all of it with pen, paper and a hefty supply of correction fluid.

Kara closed a file, opened another one, stared at it for a minute and slumped her head in her arms. The bullpen was a melee of sound, clashing smells, people moving past in the corner of her vision, all of it throwing off her already-strained concentration. It was too easy to get distracted by people’s conversations. And she was starving: it had been a whole _hour_ since lunch.

Familiar footsteps paced up behind her, trailed by an enticing scent.

‘Having fun?’ asked James.

Kara lifted her head, nudged her glasses back into place, and spun to face James. ‘Please say those are for me.’ In answer, James handed Kara the bag of doughnuts. ‘Thank Rao. You’re a lifesaver.’

James was good like that. All Kara’s fellow detectives remembered to feed her once in a while, and Alex reliably left something in her locker in anticipation of the afternoon slump, but James had a knack for showing up with fresh food from outside the division right when she needed it most. This time, instead of leaving her to bolt down the doughnuts, he said, ‘Speaking of lifesavers – you know your cousin’s in town, right?’

‘Mmph.’ Kara swallowed down her second doughnut. ‘Yeah. We’re going out for lunch on Thursday.’ It had been a while. Superman was always busy; and when he wasn’t, Clark Kent was. It became surprisingly difficult to coordinate meet-ups considering Kal could fly to New York in under ten minutes.

‘A whole lunch, huh? I’ve only got drinks,’ said James, laughing. ‘What did you do to earn such an honour?’

Kara smiled sunnily up at him. ‘I’m the best. Doughnut?’

‘No, they’re all yours. By the way, I don’t think that’s how you spell “vigilante-ing”,’ he added, pointing to a line in Kara’s file, before returning to his own desk.

*

‘Winn. Come in here a moment.’

That was the captain’s Serious Tone. Winn hurried to the office, trying to think of what he might have done. ‘If this is about the photocopier, sir –’

‘You’re not in trouble, Winn. Close the door and sit down.’

Winn did as instructed. He carefully eyed J’onn’s clasped hands and heavy stare as he did so. The office blinds were closed. If Winn wasn’t in trouble, he thought somebody else was about to be, and Winn wasn’t sure he wanted to be responsible for that.

‘Do you recall I recently received a visit from Deputy Chief Lane?’

On the other hand…

 

**Bensonhurst, 2.15pm**

There was no parking, even for a cop car, within half a block of the crime scene. Alex and Maggie strolled along the street, exchanging thoughts about the case, until Alex decided she could casually slip in the question, ‘So what happened back there at the division?’

Maggie’s cheeks tinged. ‘You mean when the wastepaper basket attacked me?’

‘Yes, that. They’re usually very docile.’

‘Wasn’t looking where I was going. I was distracted,’ said Maggie, shrugging. It was almost convincing. If she wasn’t a detective, and hadn’t known Maggie for several years, Alex might have bought it.

She racked her memory, trying to think what had – oh. ‘Are you saying you couldn’t see where you were going, because your head was inflated from being described as the – what was it? The best detective in Brooklyn?’

‘Please,’ scoffed Maggie. ‘I know you think you’re better than me. You said _one_ of the best.’

‘That’s not so impressive.’ It wasn’t like there were several thousand police officers in millions-strong Brooklyn. Wasn’t like only the most competent of them had a chance of being assigned to the Brooklyn-wide SSPD, tasked with investigating all crimes involving extraterrestrials, metahumans, and anything else liable to make the district cops feel like they’d wandered into an episode of _The Twilight Zone._ Wasn’t like Maggie, unlike Alex herself, had no prior alien connections and could therefore truly claim to have earned her position on her own merits. Maggie was more than impressive. She was brilliant.

‘Yeah, well.’ Maggie scuffed a paving stone. ‘It means something, coming from you.’

‘Always knew you liked me, Sawyer.’ An old joke, from back in the days of _not if you were the last lesbian on earth, Danvers._ Before Emily, before Vicky, before either of them could admit they were friends with a straight (ahem) face, but after it was true. Maggie flashed Alex a Look, and rolled her eyes.

‘I can take it back, if you like. You, Maggie Sawyer, are one of the worst detectives in the division. Utterly hopeless. Can’t close a case to save your life. Whoops!’ Alex grabbed Maggie’s elbow and pulled her sharply to the left. ‘Watch out, Sawyer. It’s your nemesis.’

‘The hell?’

Alex indicated the trash can, which stood innocently by the edge of the sidewalk. ‘If you were almost taken down by a baby one, imagine what an adult of the species could do.’

‘Oh, very funny. Have you won the War on Packaging yet?’

‘I don’t see how that’s relevant.’

Maggie laughed, and Alex couldn’t keep up her offended expression. Seeing Maggie in a good mood always improved her spirits. Oh, God, she knew what Kara would say to that.

She _could_ ask Maggie out, Alex thought, as they hiked up six flights of stairs. In theory. She was over Vicky, wasn’t she? That had ended months ago. Alex knew Maggie had liked her – _like that_ – at one point, and Alex for her own part had never shaken loose her old crush. How could she, when Maggie was so beautiful, so kind, so tough, so smart? But no. They were friends, and work partners. That wasn’t something Alex wanted to risk. Maybe they’d known each other too long.

They worked so well together, too. Over the years J’onn had put them in charge of more and more of the unit’s most interesting cases (and these were ever-increasing in number, since it felt as though new alien communities popped up in the city every week, like mushrooms). Kara had been known to complain about not getting to work with her sister, and Alex sometimes agreed she’d like the opportunity to team up with Kara more; but the truth was, they didn’t always work at their best like that, and they definitely didn’t have the wealth of experience solving crimes side-by-side that Alex had with Maggie. Much as Alex adored her sister, she couldn’t be sure Kara would understand every glance or coded comment in the interrogation room, or even that she’d always follow instructions, whereas with Maggie she felt confident they were always on the same page.

Professionally speaking, at least.

The crime scene extended from the apartment to the hallway in garlands of black-and-yellow tape. Maggie had already promised to take point on the CSIs, so it was Alex’s job to see what Officer Vasquez had to tell her. Nothing revealing: the victim hailed from the planet Tamaran, lived alone, and worked as an architect. His neighbours had called for help after he dragged himself to their door bleeding out from two stab wounds inflicted by a knife the attacker had helpfully left behind. Nothing obvious had been stolen, nobody canvassed would admit to seeing anything, and they were still getting hold of surveillance tapes.

‘It doesn’t look like we have much to go on,’ said Alex, flicking through her notes as she joined Maggie by the white-suited crew. ‘You get anything useful?’

Maggie looked uncomfortable. ‘No.’ A sigh. ‘ _She’s_ here.’

In their suits and blue masks the CSIs could be hard to tell apart. It took Alex two tries to correctly identify Emily. Emily, Maggie’s ex. Emily, Maggie’s ex, who’d left her crying for a week after a vicious break-up. That Emily.

‘Did you try talking to her?’

‘Um.’

That would be a no. Alex caught Emily’s eye and waved her over. She greeted Alex politely as she pulled off her mask: ‘How’s life treating you, Detective Danvers?’

‘Well enough. And you?’

‘I’m just peachy. Maggie,’ she finally acknowledged, with a wary smile. Alex watched Maggie stiffen, shrinking away from the other woman’s awkward manner. She put a hand on Maggie’s back to steady her, plastered on her best fake smile, and listened to Emily’s preliminary assessment of the crime scene without aiming so much as a threatening expression in her direction, even as Emily continued to address everything to Alex. Alex was getting a lot of practice in not disemboweling people today. Maybe she _would_ make a good captain.

There was nothing else to be gleaned at the scene, allowing them to make a swift exit at the end of the cool conversation. They made it back to the car before Alex exploded. ‘What the hell, can she not even be civil?’

‘Danvers.’

‘I know after some of the things she called you she _should_ feel ashamed to look you in the eye but for god’s sake, it’s a professional environment –’

‘Danvers! It’s not a big deal. You’re not supposed to be friends with your exes, are you?’

Alex considered that. Some of the people she’d dated casually she _had_ stayed friends with. Her more serious relationships had all ended amicably – or not precisely amicably, perhaps, but peacefully enough to leave them able to hold a polite conversation once the pain wore off.

‘Does she realise she’s the one who hurt _you_? Has she ever apologised for what she said?’

‘I suppose she still thinks I deserve it. Might not be wrong.’

‘ _Maggie._ That’s insane. You didn’t do anything to deserve – everything she said about you.’

Maggie’s grip tightened on the wheel. ‘Can we not talk about this, please?’

‘Okay.’

They didn’t talk about at all until Alex’s phone beeped, half a mile and twenty minutes of traffic later. Finally, some good news. ‘Our victim’s out of surgery and on the way to waking up. Want to go to the hospital?’

 

**The Bullpen, 3.30pm**

Deputy Chief Lane was not the one in trouble. They were the ones in trouble.

Winn had bitten his nails almost to nothing. He watched J’onn pace back and forth across the whiteboard they’d set up in the captain’s office. The whiteboard was a mess of crossing-outs and half-baked ideas. At the centre of it sat the problem, overlined and circled in squeaky purple pen. Winn followed the mind map out to its dead ends. There seemed to be no solutions. Or what solutions there were, J’onn wouldn’t condone.

The problem: Deputy Chief Lane knew J’onn was an alien imposter.

He’d been at odds with J’onn (or rather, “Hank Henshaw”) since his apparent change of heart on alien issues ten years ago. The real Henshaw had been one of Lane’s lackeys and had run the division, as far as he could under the chief’s supervision, with a strict no-tolerance policy for alien criminals and a lax attitude towards those who committed crimes against them. J’onn had spent the last decade clearing out the old guard and steering the division in a different, more extraterrestrial-friendly direction.

Somehow, recently, Lane had learned why.

He’d gone to the chief, hoping to get J’onn arrested or worse. Fortunately Lane had no evidence, and without evidence the chief refused to listen to “hare-brained conspiracy theories” and, according to head office gossip, had unceremoniously thrown him out. And so Deputy Chief Lane had resorted to blackmail.

If J’onn did not resign by the end of the week, he would have all the officers reassigned.

Since Lane had started it, Winn thought it reasonable enough to say, ‘You know, if we had something on him –’

‘I will not blackmail the deputy chief, Mr Schott.’

Winn held up his hands. ‘Hey. You said you wanted my help. I’m just making a suggestion.’ If the captain wouldn’t let him hack anything or send in a spy drone or at the very _least_ take a thorough look through the deputy chief’s personnel file, Winn wasn’t sure how he could be of much use.

J’onn gave him a weary look. He’d tried reasoning with Lane, to no avail. The chief didn’t have the time of day to speak to a mere captain, and little interest in the politics of individual detectives’ positions. And J’onn could hardly explain the situation to anyone outside the division.

‘Well, what _are_ you going to do?’ said Winn.

 

**New York Community Hospital, 4.15pm**

They found their victim, a Mr Frank Wren for earth purposes, in a recovery room tucked away from the clamour of the nurses’ station and potential prying eyes. He was one of many Tamarean refugees on the planet, and among those with no easy means to hide their alien identity from the general population. Luminous eyes stared at them from a furred face blue-tinged with pain. Alex pulled a chair up beside his bed. Maggie hung back, picking the dirt out from under her fingernails as if there was any dirt or, for that matter, any decent length of nail. Maggie loathed hospitals. She’d once taken a spill from her bike and grimaced through the pain of a broken scaphoid for three days, refusing to visit the ER until Alex and Winn frog-marched her there.

Alex, on the other hand, liked them. Hospitals reminded her of visiting her parents’ labs, when she was small: before Kara, before her dad disappeared. She liked the clean lines and the smell of disinfectant. Dealing with upset families and the injured victims – or sometimes culprits – of crime was a different matter, but still far from her least favourite part of the job.

This man appeared to have no family or friends desperate to confirm his wellbeing: unfortunate for him, but it made her job a little less stressful. Less helpfully, he was being decidedly uncooperative.

‘You’re telling me nothing was taken,’ said Alex. ‘Your attacker surprised you in the kitchen. He, she or they stabbed you twice, then left you for dead. They exited through the apartment door, which you had a clear line of sight to from your point of collapse in front of the –’ She flicked through her notes as if she needed them. ‘Yes, the fridge. Then you pulled yourself up and went to find assistance.’

‘That sounds right, officer.’

Alex took a deep breath in. ‘So would you care to explain the bloody footprints, from shoes that aren’t yours, leading into and back out of your bedroom? Or the surveillance footage from street cameras of a hooded man leaving your building with a briefcase at the time of the attack?’

More blue swirled through the architect’s fur and up to the tips of his cat-like ears. He blinked hurriedly, lids flicking sideways across eyes that refused to meet Alex’s. Finally he said, ‘The thing is, Officer.’

‘Yes?’

‘I sell tea.’

‘Tamarean tea? Without a licence? That’s illegal.’

More rapid blinking. ‘It’s harmless, officer.’ Yes: as harmless as any substance which could be consumed safely by one species, but would have devastating effects on others. On Tamaran it was a delicacy. On other planets, its addictive properties wreaked havoc among communities. Humans were unaffected, and universally hated the stuff – the flavour could best be described as “liquid asphalt with an aftertaste of off milk” – but Alex had seen other species in the throes of addiction and it was not a pretty sight.

The leaves were sold in grams. A briefcase full of tea? That would be more than she’d ever found in a street dealer’s possession.

‘If you were only selling to Tamareans it might be harmless, but if you were, you’d have a licence.’

‘If I didn’t, somebody else would,’ he muttered.

‘Perhaps somebody else wanted to?’ Alex suggested. ‘I take it you have rivals. A supplier. Unhappy customers, or their friends and relatives. In fact, now you’ve mentioned your little side business I’m beginning to think there are probably quite a lot of people who’d want you dead, and it would be a really good idea if you’d start naming them right about now.’

It was a long list. Alex noted movement by the door before they were finished and noticed they’d been joined by one of the doctors, now talking to Maggie in a low voice. She excused herself from the victim when Maggie gestured her over a few minutes later.

The doctor was young, blonde, pretty, and sharing looks with Maggie that made Alex feel suddenly invisible. At Alex’s arrival, Maggie paused their funnier-than-it-should-have-been conversation on hospital working hours and handed her the clipboard, with a quiet, ‘Do you see what I see?’

Alex scanned the diagram. ‘Kidney strike. Classic low attack, jabbing upwards into the ribs.’ She frowned. ‘That’s a stupid way to attack a Tamarean…’ They weren’t vulnerable on the lower torso; anybody trying to kill one would aim for the chest or throat. That suggested the attacker was unfamiliar with Tamarean physiology. All the known tea traders in the city – all the potential turf rivals – were Tamarean.

‘Hired thug?’ said Maggie.

‘Would you hire someone who didn’t know that?’ Alex countered. She glanced at the doctor; they could discuss it later. ‘Can we get a copy of this?’

Once she’d finished the interview Alex found herself dawdling in the corridor while her partner continued to flirt with the pretty doctor. Good thing they didn’t have work to do or anything. She tried to tell herself that was the only thing bothering her when Maggie swaggered over a few minutes later, wearing her tooth-baring grin.

‘I got her number.’

‘No, really? You totally look like you struck out.’

Alex didn’t believe in signs from the universe, as a rule, but this one was flashing neon pink and had just landed on her head. Maggie had a phone number. Maggie probably had a date. ‘That’s great, though,’ she added quickly.

‘You think?’

‘Yeah. Emily who?’

Maggie’s smile tightened; then she nodded.

 

**Kara’s Apartment, 8.00pm**

‘Of course it’s a sign, you muppet,’ said Kara, swiping up the last slice of pizza before Alex could reach for it. ‘It’s a sign you should ask her out before anyone else snatches her up.’

‘No, it’s a sign she wouldn’t be interested. Maggie has plenty of other options.’

‘And she doesn’t know you’re one of them. She probably thinks you’re over her, just like you, silly, think she’s over you – can’t you see it? I thought you were supposed to be smart, Alex.’

Alex flung a pillow in her sister’s direction, then slumped back into the cushions. ‘We ran into Emily today.’

‘What? Rao, what happened?’

‘It was horrible. They can barely stand to be in the same room as each other. Kara – what if we did date, and it didn’t work out, and that happened to us?’

Kara hugged the pillow to her chest, cross-legged. She’d already inhaled the pizza. ‘Why would it? Emily was cruel. You never thought Maggie had done anything wrong.’

That was true; but it wasn’t as though Alex had heard both sides of the story, or even all that much explanation from Maggie herself. She only knew the words Emily had flung at Maggie during the terrible final fight, and how small and broken her friend had looked afterwards, and how impossible it was that Maggie had done anything to deserve them. But Emily must have thought that too, at one point.

‘And if she did, so what? We both know she’s a good person. People make mistakes. I still think it’s worth a go.’

Alex didn’t want to have this conversation any more. She went to fetch the ice-cream from the freezer, and by the time she came back and squidged under the blanket beside Kara she’d thought of a new topic. ‘What about you and James?’

‘What _about_ me and James?’ said Kara. ‘He doesn’t – we’re friends.’

‘Uh-huh.’ Alex slapped her sister’s hand away from the tub. ‘No. Bad Kara.’

Kara made a sad face.

‘You’re going to pout at me? Kara. I taught you that pout. I invented that pout. Okay, fine, have the ice-cream, are you happy now?’

 

**The Bullpen, 3.00pm**

There was a knock on the door and Winn scrambled to turn the whiteboard before whoever-it-was could enter. J’onn, at his desk, looked perfectly composed. ‘Come in,’ he called.

Maggie was clearly bemused to see Winn in the corner of the captain’s office, hopping slightly because he’d stubbed his toe on the roller while turning the board to the wall; but she shrugged and proceeded with her report of their lack-of-progress on the stabbing case.

‘Thank you for the update,’ said J’onn, waving her away.

Maggie seemed surprised at the brisk dismissal. ‘Yes, sir,’ she said, shoulders dropping, hovering for a moment with another glance at Winn before she departed.

Winn wearily rolled the whiteboard back around. J’onn snapped a file closed and pushed himself up from the desk.

‘Are you going to try the chief again?’ Winn guessed.

‘At this point, it’s our best option.’

No, thought Winn. It wasn’t the best option, or the second-best option. It was J’onn refusing to try anything else out of – a sense of honour, or stubborn pride, Winn didn’t know. He thought the captain would have asked the others for help if not for the certainty that their “help” would be ethically dubious at best. They’d do anything for their captain. J’onn didn’t want to give them the opportunity.

‘Remember, you’re not to tell anyone on the team about this,’ said J’onn.

‘I thought you didn’t do the mind-reading thing on us,’ Winn said, with a weak grin. But it was clear the captain wasn’t in the mood for jokes.

‘I didn’t need to. This stays between us.’

Winn wondered how many more times he’d see the captain stride out of his office, shoulders back, head held high, in a uniform he’d earned a hundred times over no matter how he’d originally come to wear it. He put his hand to his forehead in his best imitation of a salute.

‘Yes, sir.’

 

**5.10pm**

The bustle of the day was beginning to fade. The captain and half the detectives had already headed home; Kara had seen Maggie disappear on the dot of five with the word “date” on her lips. Winn was still typing away busily at his computer, and Alex would be on-duty until the night crew showed up. Kara herself had a few things to work on, but nothing that totally obligated her to stick around. So when James ambled in with the expression of a man who’d just completed a successful interrogation, she waved to him.

‘Do you want to go for a drink tonight?’ Kara suggested.

James shifted uneasily. ‘I’m actually going for drinks with Clark as soon as I get out of here.’

‘Oh.’

‘You could come. I’m sure your cousin wouldn’t mind.’

‘No, no, you go have fun. I should… probably finish up the…’ Ugh. ‘Paperwork.’

James smiled at her. ‘If you’re sure,’ he said. Kara waited until he’d headed off to the lockers to scowl at the pile of beige folders on her desk.

Nope. Nope, not doing that right now.

‘Hey, Winn,’ she called. ‘Are you hungry?’

*

‘Shit,’ hissed Alex, as her scissors veered sideways and her palm slammed into a sharp plastic point. Inside its protective shell, the SD card seemed to be mocking her. Alex rubbed her injured hand and internally debated the merits of explosives.

James cruised over in a rolling chair. ‘Having trouble there, Danvers?’

‘No.’ Alex shoved the package away. James had his jacket on, satchel slung over his shoulder. ‘You’re heading out?’

‘Drinks with Clark.’

‘Oh, great. Once again I’m going to be the only adult in the vicinity.’

‘Winn and Kara are adults.’

‘Winn and Kara just set fire to the break room.’

James looked over at the smoke rising behind the glass pane. A couple of flickering flames were just visible. He frowned. ‘Should we do something about that?’

‘Kara’s fireproof. They’ll be fine,’ said Alex, waving it off. ‘But this is what you’re leaving me to deal with, Olsen.’

James leaned forward, hands clasped between his knees, a worryingly kind expression on his face. ‘No Maggie tonight?’

‘She’s got a date.’ The scissors were the sharp-ended kind; Alex wondered if stabbing the case with them would work. Or a knife.

‘And when are you going to ask her out?’ said James, softly.

Alex stared at him. ‘What? No. What? Did Kara put you up to this?’

‘Great minds think alike.’

‘So do small ones,’ muttered Alex. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m not going to ask Maggie out.’

‘Even though you’re completely smitten with her,’ said James. Smitten – who said _smitten?_ James smiled and added, ‘I should have brought my camera. You’ve gone pink.’

Alex swallowed back an insubordinate smile. ‘Try it and you don’t want to know where that camera will end up, Olsen.’ She sighed. ‘I’m not going to, James. Can you imagine if it didn’t work out?’

‘You? And Sawyer? Not working out? Have you seen the way she looks at you, Alex?’

‘Yes, clearly she’s – _smitten –_ going on dates with doctors.’

‘Alex,’ said James, and he was still wearing that kind look, the one with patient compassion behind the eyes that made victims and witnesses and suspects alike open up to him. ‘What are you scared of?’

With this parting question he nodded to Alex and headed out. Alex watched him go, waving towards the break room, where the fire was now under control: Winn wearing singed eyebrows, Kara a sheepish grin as they waved back at him.

She was scared of plenty of things: of anything happening to Kara, of falling out with Eliza again, of screwing up at work, of global warming –

– Not of asking Maggie out. No. It just wasn’t a good idea.

Alex eyed the SD card again. Screw this. She was going to find a knife.

 

**Noonans, 12.30pm**

Kara loved her not-so-baby cousin, truly she did, and she knew Clark meant well, but – sometimes she honestly thought he forgot that he wasn’t the only one with superpowers on this planet. He told her all these stories about his adventures as Superman, as he’d done every time they saw each other since he first brought her to the Danvers, and Kara still loved to hear them but she was no longer thirteen and now under the wild, thrilling tales she could hear how frightened he sometimes was, and how difficult his battles were, and the way he seemed convinced he had to face all these things on his own.

‘You know, if you ever need help, I’m only a flight away,’ she said, through a mouthful of pastry.

‘I can’t ask you to do that, Kara.’

‘You’re not asking. I’m offering.’ She wondered if she even knew how: if she remembered how to do anything with her powers except keep them in check. Kara thought of Alex’s aghast reaction when she’d mentioned the possibility over the years, and her sister’s insistence it was better if she never risked revealing what she could do.

That was true. _Kara’s_ life was probably better as long as she pretended to be normal. It was definitely safer. And it was hardly as if her work didn’t make any difference. Hardly as if she wasn’t helping people already. But Clark did so much for so many more.

She decided to change the subject. ‘Did you have fun with James last night? He came in nursing quite a headache.’

‘It was great to catch up with him,’ said Clark. ‘Hey, did James ever tell you about the time…’

Kara stuffed half an éclair in her mouth to keep herself from retorting that no, James hadn’t told her about the time, because they had better things to talk about than his old war stories with Clark.

What _did_ they talk about? Mostly work, food, board games, and her idiot sister’s love life. Quite boring, when you put it like that. Not that Kara had ever been bored in James’s company – she doubted that was possible; she could probably lose a few weeks of her life simply staring at his beautiful face – but she often wondered if he was humouring her, because she was Clark’s kid cousin, or because he was kind.

Kara tried to push the thoughts away and concentrate on Clark’s story. Something about Lex Luthor – it was often something about Lex Luthor. He was still following that train of thought, nudged by Kara’s questions (she did find it fascinating), when lunch came to an end. They parted with a hug and a kiss on the cheek and promises to keep in touch that Kara knew meant they’d hear nothing from each other until one of them, in a couple of weeks, guiltily remembered and started a chat conversation. She watched him disappear down the street. Then, a few moments later, a red-and-blue blur rose from a back alley, circled once, and shot off in the direction of Metropolis amidst gasps of glee from the onlookers fortunate enough to be looking up.

Kara hiked her bag up on her shoulder, pushed her glasses into place, and set off for the precinct.

 

**The Bullpen, 1.10pm**

The CSI team had come through and managed to pull a smudged print from the knife, tentatively identifying the attacker as a low-level human thug with a nice record in battery and assault. But having a name and an arrest warrant was less of a success than it had initially felt like, because the man had managed to vanish into the aether and Alex had spent the morning trailing round half of Brooklyn with Maggie in the futile hope of unearthing him.

Upon arriving back at the precinct Vasquez had handed Alex a pile of witness statements and interview reports from people who’d seen nothing, heard nothing, spoken of nothing and could provide no useful information no matter how much Alex glared at them. This was going nowhere. Alex realised she had a page of idle doodles where there should have been notes, if there were any sensible notes to take, and – shaking her head at herself – tore the ruined sheet from the pad. She carelessly crumpled the paper into a ball and tossed it towards the wastebasket, where it landed with a satisfying rustle.

A few seconds later, Maggie copied the throw. She raised her eyebrows at Alex in challenge, and Alex, trying not to smile too broadly, found some scrap on her desk to aim another paper ball at the bin. It was followed by a second from Maggie.

‘Trying to salvage your pool record, Sawyer?’

‘Winn could make the shot from here. Oi, barbecue,’ said Maggie, stopping Winn in his tracks (his poor eyebrows were still in ruins). ‘Mind moving that basket for us? Further – further – yeah, there, that’s good.’

Alex did a quick mental calculation. ‘Won’t the captain see?’

‘Oh, he’s out,’ said Winn, and both detectives looked at him in surprise. ‘I mean, yes, he just went out. I’m sure he’ll be back soon.’

Maggie shrugged. Alex decided not to pursue it. If J’onn had things to deal with, that was his own business. But she didn’t think she’d seen him leave…

She dropped three more shots in quick succession and turned her attention back to sifting through the reports while Maggie, clearly realising she’d taken on a bigger challenge than she could be certain of meeting, lined up her throws with careful concentration. Alex watched Maggie frowning with her tongue between her teeth and looked away before the other detective could notice. It was the same face she made playing pool.

It was over pool they’d first become friends. The newly-minted-detective Alex and the more experienced Maggie, still a relative newcomer to the division and uncertain of her place on J’onn’s team. That was before Kara joined them to do her investigative training, and long before James showed up: only Winn had been around longer. Alex and Maggie had butted heads at first, similarly competitive and equally competent as detectives. Though Maggie was, in the humble opinion of a former pool shark, terrible at pool.

All the throws went in. Alex couldn’t help but laugh at Maggie’s gleeful expression. ‘Do you want it further away?’

‘How are those reports going, Danvers?’ Maggie asked instead.

‘Nowhere. What about you? Any luck?’

‘None to speak of,’ said Maggie, ‘But this is interesting. The CSIs haven’t found any trace of Tamarean tea in the apartment.’

‘We know Taylor took the briefcase.’

‘Yes, but all the evidence points to a rush job. Taylor didn’t fill the briefcase, he just grabbed it and ran. Why would Wren keep all his supply in that one case?’

‘You think he was lying?’ Alex considered that. She hadn’t thought their victim was lying at the time, but – there were so many species of alien, and they all had different communication styles and tells. Alex was very good at spotting when a human interviewee was lying to her. But an injured Tamarean?

‘I think it’s a possibility.’

Alex aimed another scrap of paper towards the wastebasket. Maggie tried to follow it up, missed, and swore quietly. They worked in silence for a few more minutes.

‘So, Sawyer, how did your date go? With the cute doctor, right?’ (No, she hadn’t spent all morning working up the courage to ask that as if it was a casual remark. Definitely not. She just-as-definitely couldn’t hear the words ringing across the precinct like she’d just confessed her undying love for Nickelback. She was simply a detective asking her partner about a date. Asking her friend. Her gorgeous, very kissable friend.)

Maggie, oblivious to any internal turmoil, tilted her head. ‘It was fun. I don’t see it going very far.’

‘That’s a shame.’

‘She thought Matt Smith was a better doctor than David Tennant.’

‘Oh, you have to delete her number.’

Maggie laughed. ‘Yeah, no. There’s not going to be a second date.’

Alex firmly told the butterflies in her stomach to stop doing joyful somersaults and tried to think of an appropriate response. To her great relief, Maggie’s phone chose that moment to start ringing. Maggie snatched it up, speaking brightly, and headed off to find a quiet corner.

‘Real smooth,’ said Winn.

‘Not you too.’

Maggie came back grinning. ‘I think we’ve got something. Do you remember that Tamarean trader, goes by Collins, I investigated a while back?’

Alex remembered. Maggie had never quite been able to prove any of his wares were illegally obtained. ‘What does he have to do with this?’ Collins sold tea, but legitimately; it was his other stock the police had been more interested in.

‘One of my sources still keeps in touch, and according to her, he’s got a big deal of some kind organised for this evening.’

‘Right, and?’

‘The name Jack Taylor came up.’

Their attacker and a Tamarean. Alex sat up straight. ‘Do you know where the deal is?’

‘I know where he usually holds them. A restaurant. Easy enough to check if he’s got a reservation,’ said Maggie.

They dragged James into the planning process once they’d confirmed it and started sketching out an action plan. Kara’s loud return interrupted their brainstorming with a bang; in fact, the whole precinct turned to watch as the younger Danvers slammed the bullpen gate and marched straight across to the break room. A dozen pairs of eyes then fixed, almost as one, on Alex.

‘Fine. I’ll go.’

Lucky the break room was otherwise empty. The microwave had been unplugged because it kept letting off sparks, and Kara was trying to brew something drinkable in the ancient coffeemaker with an air of silent frustration.

‘Hey. What’s wrong?’ Alex braved another step closer and laid a hand on Kara’s shoulder, then eased a mug from her grasp before it could shatter under her grip. ‘Did you and Clark have a fight?’ It would be a historic first.

Kara’s look was one of genuine surprise. ‘What? No. Me and Clark are cool. It was good to see him.’

‘Then what’s gotten under your skin?’

‘Nothing. I’m fine.’

Alex snorted. ‘In that case, try and get “nothing” under control before the stakeout tonight,’ she suggested. ‘We’ve got a lead.’

Kara brightened immediately. ‘Please tell me I can bring food.’

‘Yes, Kara. You can bring food.’

 

**M’gann’s Bar, 4.00pm**

Winn circled warily around a couple of heavyset reptilian aliens, held his hands up to appease the Infernian he’d bumped into, and dodged through a gap to reach the end of the bar. There he found J’onn staring into the base of an empty glass. It was hard to tell in the dim light, but Winn thought the dregs were blue.

‘Not like you to drink in the middle of the day, captain.’

J’onn looked at him them. His eyes glowed with a light Winn had only seen once or twice before: the red eyes of a Martian, always hardest for the shapeshifter to conceal. After a couple of blinks they faded back to their more familiar brown.

‘I should never have taken Henshaw’s identity,’ he said. He tipped the glass back, though the few drops remaining drifted slowly and failed to reach his lips. ‘I was trying to make things better. Now Lane will parachute in someone with his own anti-alien agenda and take the division back to where it was ten years ago.’

‘The team won’t stand for that.’

‘How long will they last?’ J’onn shook his head. ‘My resignation will only offer a reprieve. Lane has suspected my motives for years. And he’s right. I am a fraud.’

A waitress wandered past. Winn quickly leaned forward to order two drinks: water for the captain, something stronger for himself.

‘You were trying to make something good happen,’ he said to J’onn. ‘And you did. The aliens here, the ones who can’t hide like you can, they feel safe walking around this city because of the work _you’ve_ done for them. Are you going to let some old windbag of a deputy chief destroy all that over a few white lies?’

“Safe” was pushing it. But safer. There were aliens now who believed they could trust the police. There were aliens who didn’t believe that, and had been helped anyway. There were aliens – half of them refugees, escaped slaves, the lost and the forgotten – only still _alive_ thanks to the division’s actions. That was worth a little fraud. It was worth a little blackmail. Winn stared at the captain, begging him to hear the things he knew J’onn wouldn’t let him say out loud.

J’onn downed the water and stood up, wobbly on his feet but determined. ‘I’d better head back and start putting things in order, hadn’t I?’

 

**The Van, 9.05pm**

Come nine, both Alex and Maggie had changed: they’d been dressed too much like cops and not enough like people who might dine at a relatively upscale restaurant on any given evening. With everything else their jobs entailed, only Alex had found time to head home, put on a nicer shirt and swap out her jacket for a blazer. There’d been no way to smarten up Maggie’s top and she’d resorted to borrowing a blouse from Kara’s locker.

It was pink.

Alex, privately, thought it was adorable. Maggie, publicly, was not amused. She kept tugging at the too-long sleeves, until Alex gave in and rolled them up for her. ‘It doesn’t _not_ suit you,’ she said. ‘Just… Channel your inner Kara.’

‘I heard that!’ Kara shouted at them from the driver’s seat.

‘You were meant to,’ Alex retorted.

‘I feel like an overstarched marshmallow,’ said Maggie.

‘Oh, come on, guys – yes, I know,’ Kara added with less temper to James, who’d muttered something about taking a left. Within a couple more blocks they were parked outside the restaurant.

Alex passed over the large bag of takeout she’d been holding for Kara and made an encouraging face at her partner. ‘Ready?’

They entered the restaurant behind a large family group and a blonde woman in precarious heels. It was a nice restaurant. It was the kind of restaurant, in fact, Alex might have taken a woman to for a date. But this was not a date. It wasn’t even undercover-as-a-date, though they’d posed as a couple before, usually by feigning an argument to distract suspects until they were close enough to make the arrest. This was simply two friends, having a meal out in a nice restaurant.

At least, it was until the hostess offered them an apologetic grimace and said, ‘I’m sorry. We’re fully booked.’

Before Alex knew it she’d been pulled close to Maggie, who was looping an arm through hers with the words, ‘Oh, no! Babe, I’m so sorry, I should have thought – you see, we had our very first date here, and we just got engaged tonight.’

‘Yeah, we’re – engaged –’ said Alex, catching on. ‘I would have booked but it was a spur of the moment thing.’

‘Jules is always so impulsive,’ Maggie added, reaching up to give Alex a kiss on the cheek, and Alex had to collect herself because –

Because she’d almost forgotten, for a moment, it didn’t happen every day of her life –

‘But it would mean so much to me and Ma- Mabel if we could have dinner here tonight,’ she concluded, flashing what she hoped was a winning smile at the hostess.

The girl hesitated, then said, ‘You two are so sweet. I’ll have to see if I can find somewhere for you. If you could just follow me…’

She led them to a small high table in a waiting area and promised someone would be over to bring them drinks. Once she’d gone, Alex leaned across the table and hissed, ‘We’re engaged?’

‘It worked,’ said Maggie, then, less defensively, ‘It’s not weird at all, is it?’

Alex knocked against her foot under the table and said, ‘Why would it be weird? Anyway, we’re in now. We don’t need to keep it up all evening.’

Alex did not believe in signs. And she did not believe the universe had a sense of humour. She still should have known better than to say it.

Ten minutes later the hostess returned to lead them to the table she’d squeezed in and sat them next to an alien Alex recognised. From his police file. Better yet, he seemed to be on a date – unless Tamareans usually held hands with their business partners like that – and best of all, his date (blonde, very high heels) must have caught their conversation with the hostess, because she _squealed_ when she saw them and said, ‘Oh, you two just got engaged, didn’t you? We must buy you a drink!’

Maggie’s expression mirrored the near-panic Alex herself felt. Her partner recovered first, and managed to talk the couple down to something non-alcoholic. No liquor while on-duty. That was unhelpful. Alex would have strongly appreciated a drink right about now.

Collins’ date didn’t stop at insisting they order Alex and Maggie a couple of mocktails. Having apparently decided this made them friends, she proceeded to quiz them on their relationship for. The. Entire. Meal. They fumbled their way through questions about how long they’d known each other, what the proposal had been like and whether they planned to have kids. For ten minutes after that the woman waxed lyrical about all the planning and effort that went into big beautiful weddings. By the time she paused for breath to ask them about their own plans, Maggie and Alex were sharing a horrified look.

‘You know, we were thinking…’ said Maggie.

‘Something a little smaller.’

‘Run away to Vegas,’ Maggie clarified.

Alex grinned at her. ‘Knew I liked you for a reason, babe.’ It was too weird, she’d found, to keep calling Maggie “Mabel.” “Babe” tripped off her tongue like the words to an old song. Alex didn’t feel like interrogating that right now. She was enjoying herself too much, hoping the evening would carry on and she could half-pretend for a little longer. (Alcohol would still have helped. It would have quieted the sick voice in her gut which reminded Alex she was walking a high-wire without a net. But she could worry about it later.)

But soon enough they’d cleared their plates of dessert and it was time to leave the table (not coincidentally, just as Collins excused himself and headed towards the back of the restaurant, hopefully to carry out the deal they’d followed him here for). Collins’ date flung one last question after them – ‘Where are you going on your honeymoon?’

‘Geneva,’ Alex blurted out.

‘Geneva?’ repeated Maggie, once they were out of earshot. ‘Why Geneva?’

‘It’s got CERN.’

‘Nerd.’

‘What, you don’t think that’s romantic?’

 

**The Van, 9.45pm**

There was no movement on the street. Other than two more groups arriving at the restaurant, there had been no sign of life since Maggie and Alex left. It was a calm night, street-lamp dark, and quiet even to Kara’s sensitive ears. Usually she liked stakeouts but tonight she felt too twitchy to sit still for it. She’d already torn through all but one of the potstickers and she picked over the last one, hungry enough, but unwilling to eat it because that would mean there was _no food_ left and nothing to do with her hands.

‘Are you all right?’ James asked.

Kara jumped. ‘Yeah, I’m – why do you ask?’

‘You’re very quiet.’

Kara took a bite of the potsticker. ‘I guess a couple of things Clark said at lunch got to me. He didn’t mean anything by it. He was telling me this old story about some hijinks the two of you got up to back in the day, and I realised how much history you two have together. You’ve known each other for so long, you know? Except you haven’t, I’ve known Clark longer, even not counting Krypton – but I always feel like the outsider.’

‘Is that why you didn’t want to come for drinks?’

‘I’d feel like I was butting in.’ She didn’t want even more reminders that Clark had been James’s friend first.

‘You wouldn’t be.’

‘I _know_ that. It’s just…’ Kara popped the last bit of potsticker in her mouth and waved her hands helplessly. ‘You’re my friend but you were _his_ friend first. If I –’ She stopped herself. No point even going there. ‘I’m not just Superman’s baby cousin.’

James patted her on the arm. ‘I don’t think you are.’

Kara bit her lip. How could she explain? She wanted – she didn’t know what she wanted; that was always the problem. She wanted James, but she understood that, even if she also wanted him to – even if she also wanted to be sure he really _saw_ her, but she couldn’t say what more there was to see. James knew her secret already.

‘You know,’ said James, ‘My being friends with you doesn’t have anything to do with –’

‘Shush.’ Kara waved a hand at him, leaning forwards to peer out the window. ‘Hang on. We’ve got movement.’

 

**The Restaurant, 9.45pm**

‘Where did he go? The kitchen?’ said Alex. They’d halted in a back corridor with a few doors leading off it. It was clearly in constant use, but none of the waiters hurrying back and forth were paying much attention to them, and the bustle of the restaurant would drown out their voices.

‘Bathroom.’

Alex cursed under her breath. ‘He can’t be holding a deal in the bathroom.’

‘No,’ said Maggie, leaning over to peer through the door as another patron left (giving her a somewhat bemused look) – ‘No, I think he was using it for its intended purpose. And he’s coming back.’

If he caught them here, it would be obvious they were following him. Momentary panic was the only explanation Alex would ever willingly give for what she did next.

She grabbed Maggie, muttered, ‘Forgive me,’ and kissed her.

She regretted it immediately. No, that wasn’t true – she’d regretted it _before_ she did it, because she’d had some idea of how good it would be and how hard to let go afterwards. But you can’t truly know a thing until you’ve lived through it. Alex hadn’t thought Maggie would kiss her back as fiercely as she did, with barely a moment’s hesitation; hadn’t pictured in such delicate detail the touch of her lips, or her hands reaching for Alex’s arms; hadn’t thought of Maggie’s scent – wholly familiar, Alex realised – enveloping her in a sense of too-long-delayed homecoming. She’d had no idea kissing Maggie would feel like she had starlight washing through her veins.

They parted. Their trader had gone past and Alex, who had the better view, watched him round the corner back into the hubbub of the restaurant while Maggie – still clinging to her – quietly said, ‘Woah.’ Then, ‘I know it’s just a work thing but let me have this.’ Alex looked at her, finally, trying to remember how to put words together, and Maggie smiled and teased, ‘What, aren’t you going to say it?’

Alex couldn’t say it. She said, ‘We need to follow Collins. It doesn’t look like he’s holding the deal here.’

Luckily, since they’d paid the check and had no excuse to return to the table, it seemed as though Collins was on his way out. They dawdled to watch him give his date a goodnight kiss and set her in a cab, then start walking along the road by himself. Alex and Maggie darted across to the van. Alex was equally glad and left bereft by the sudden distance between them in the back seat. She tried to focus on the conversation but she was still reeling, not so much from the kiss as from the certainty that now she knew what it was like to kiss Maggie, she couldn’t live without it. And that Maggie did want her back –

But seemed oblivious to being wanted.

‘How did you guys get on?’ she was asking. ‘Take it nothing interesting happened?’

‘Yep. Yep. Such a normal time,’ said Kara, oddly loud and high-pitched.

James coughed. ‘Kara and I kissed.’

Maggie dropped her head in her hands. Alex said, faintly, ‘Huh. That’s nice. We need to tail Collins…’

They followed the man at a distance, away from the classy restaurant and upscale houses surrounding it and into a rougher area near the docks full of brownfield and industrial sites. When Collins disappeared into one particular estate, they parked the van in an unobtrusive corner; James and Kara went to follow him, Maggie and Alex to keep watch round the far side of the estate, where a second entrance passed through a chain-link fence rather than the high, small-windowed buildings which surrounded the rest of the space. A grimy bus stop provided some camouflage from the gate.

Minutes passed in silence.

‘James and your sister, huh?’

Alex hummed. ‘I don’t think anyone’s going to be surprised.’

‘No, but now I owe Winn a bottle of scotch.’ Maggie smiled. ‘They’ll be good together.’

The place was almost deserted. When a figure came into view, Alex was unsurprised to be able to identify him: ‘That’s Taylor,’ she said of the man approaching the entrance, carrying not a briefcase but a duffel more than large enough to contain one or any of its contents. Maggie nodded in agreement.

He’d slowed. He was looking around – no, looking their way – and it was too far to read his expression but his body language communicated tension. Alex froze, trying to think of a way out, but Maggie got there first and for the second time that night Alex found herself pulled towards her. This time the kiss belonged to Maggie: Maggie’s hands on Alex’s cheeks, Maggie pushing Alex up against the ad board, Maggie smiling into the kiss and opening her eyes to watch their suspect and pulling away once he’d apparently dismissed them, turned, and headed inside.

Flustered in ways less to do with her emotional state than other reactions to being veritably jumped on by her partner, Alex choked out, ‘Was that necessary?’

‘Thought I might as well get another one in,’ said Maggie. Her quick smile held a hint of dimples. Then she was back to business, and that helped Alex compose herself too.

They slipped through the gate. Across the parking lot Taylor vanished down a narrow path between two buildings. Maggie and Alex silently agreed to draw their weapons before following, and edged forward along the dark space. They were approaching the end when they heard a commotion in the form of Kara’s voice.

‘Everybody put your hands on your head! You’re all under arrest! You, drop that duffel bag!’

Alex rushed forward. They were in a small courtyard. Taylor had done as instructed, throwing the bag to the ground and his hands high with shouts of, ‘Please don’t shoot! Please don’t shoot!’ There were others: two women, one human-passing, one clearly alien, and an older Tamarean man who quivered under the stare of James’s gun. Alex fixed her gaze on the women, but not her weapon, which she held low and ready.

Collins was the only one who tried to run.

Kara wouldn’t shoot. Kara didn’t need to. She turned and caught him in an armlock with careless ease. Alex directed the other four to the wall. Maggie, apparently confident they wouldn’t try to cause trouble with both James and Alex to watch them, holstered her weapon and approached the duffel bag.

Kara beamed across at Alex, while handcuffing the weakly-struggling Collins. ‘You kissed Maggie!’

‘And how would you know that, _Detective_ Danvers?’ Her sister’s super-senses were the least problematic of her powers, but she still wasn’t supposed to use them. For one thing, X-ray vision was just _rude._

Maggie had pulled on a pair of gloves to investigate the duffel bag. She hauled the whole briefcase out of the bag and set it on the ground.

Collins wriggled again. ‘Stay still!’ warned Kara.

‘You know, it’s rather odd for a licensed trader to go to such an effort to get hold of illegal tea,’ said Maggie, snapping the clasps upwards.

Alex heard, a second too late to process, ‘No, don’t open that, it’s not –’

A blast of white light. A blur.

Then she was on the ground, struggling to breathe through the wave of heat. Where was – _Maggie!_

Right there beside her. And Kara, kneeling like a shield, Kara who could think ten times faster than a human and move faster yet, Kara who must have pulled Maggie from the direct route of the blast and just in time because _the back of her shirt was on fire._ But Maggie, Maggie was fine, or no worse than everyone else knocked over in the impact. Alex looked around: they were all on the ground, blown flat or onto their asses by the heatwave, shielding their eyes from the light. The old Tamarean man was coughing.

Alex rolled over to check on Maggie. ‘You okay?’

Maggie groaned. Alex took that as enough of an answer, and looked up at her sister, who’d regained her feet first. ‘You know you’re on fire, right?’

While Kara tried to beat out the flames, Alex staggered upright. She rested her hands on her knees for a moment, then held out an arm to Maggie. They surveyed the space. The duffel bag was a smoking black shell, and the briefcase had entirely disappeared.

Maggie rubbed her eyes. ‘I don’t think that was Tamarean tea.’

 

**Break Room, 11.00pm**

‘Hiding from the night shift?’ said Alex. Maggie had a sweep of paper spread out across the break room’s wobbly plastic table. That was the worst thing about stakeouts: after the adrenaline wore off, when you’d really like to crash in bed and sleep for twelve hours, you had to come back and make sure all the evidence got filed properly. And you couldn’t use your own desk to do it because it had been claimed by one of the night shift vampires. Alex sat down beside Maggie and started flicking through the nearest forms.

She left just enough space to prevent them from brushing against each other companionably. She wondered if this was more than usual, or less than usual, or if Maggie could tell the difference. If she wondered why it was there, why her best friend was suddenly awkward around her.

There’d been a moment, between the flash of light and seeing Maggie safe beside Kara, when Alex had thought her world was about to disintegrate, and it hadn’t been fear for her own life. She thought she’d shouted Maggie’s name – did she remember that? Alex wasn’t sure she could remember anything clearly, except a jolt of pure terror followed by equally unalloyed relief and the burning desire to berate Maggie for being so stupid, so goddamn reckless, because she could have been killed and _what would I do without you?_

Alex could think of one person she feared losing more. Only one.

She’d forgotten about the paperwork. She’d forgotten not to stare. Maggie shifted as if she felt eyes on her, coughed, looked at Alex, looked away, and finally said, ‘I’m sorry if I made things weird earlier.’

‘Weird?’

‘By getting a bit – into it – back there.’

Was she kidding? Did she think Alex hadn’t been _into it?_ Had they both been present at the same kisses? But – not like this, not here, not now. There were still some things to figure out. ‘Maggie, it’s fine. We were in-character.’

And Alex saw it. She saw the pain in Maggie’s eyes, saw her shutting down even as she laughed and said, ‘Right. Not your thing.’

There was almost nothing Alex wanted to do more than kiss the hurt off her face. She wanted to pull Maggie close and promise her that everything was going to be okay. But she didn’t know that, not yet. She still didn’t know –

So instead she swallowed those words, and washed them down with the light-hearted ones that also came to mind (“Didn’t I keep saying you liked me?”) and murmured something about a file just out of reach, which Maggie handed her, and they worked in strained silence for a while.

There was movement in the bullpen. Alex leaned forward and saw J’onn – wait, the captain was still here? He’d been missing all afternoon, and he was here _now?_ Alex didn’t think she’d ever seen J’onn in the division past six. He should have been long since at home.

And he was calling a meeting. Alex and Maggie went to lean against the break room door, sharing worried glances with each other, with the rest of the team. Winn had filed out of the office behind J’onn and went to slump at his desk, spinning a pen round his fingers with the air of somebody who hadn’t slept in a few days.

J’onn looked worse. He looked, Alex thought, suddenly very, very old.

‘It is with the deepest regret I must inform you that I will be resigning from the position of captain, effective at the end of this week.’

An exclamation of shock rippled across the bullpen. ‘What the hell?’ said Maggie. Then, louder, ‘Captain, with all due respect, what the hell?’

‘Why would you _do_ that?’ said Kara.

‘It was not,’ said J’onn, and stopped. He pulled himself up straight. ‘It was not an easy decision to make, but it is for the best.’

Judging by the stony silence from the room, he was the only one to think that even a possibility. Maggie, beside Alex, was shaking her head. ‘I can’t do this,’ she said, pushing past Alex on her way to the staircase.

‘Maggie,’ said Alex, and she wanted to follow, but her feet felt frozen to the floor. This was all wrong. J’onn was their captain. They were his detectives, among the best in the NYPD, and they’d been together for years. Not an easy decision to make? It should never have been a decision at all.

They all watched J’onn walk towards the elevator and vanish inside its sliding doors.

The night shift turned back to work. He was their captain too, but not in the same way. They didn’t work with him day-in, day-out like the core members of the division did. The night shift were the understudies. They were the _team_ and J’onn was at the heart of it – what would they be without him? Alex could barely picture a replacement captain.

Kara marched on Winn. Alex and James weren’t far behind, close enough to hear her say, ‘You knew about this?’

Winn nodded miserably. ‘It’s Deputy Chief Lane. He’s forcing J’onn out.’

‘Nuh-uh,’ said Alex. ‘No way. Not letting that happen.’

‘That’s why he didn’t want to tell you…’

By the end of the explanation Alex was fuming. J’onn, the idiot. Didn’t he understand that some things mattered more than honour? Didn’t _they_ matter more than honour? Kara pulled her glasses off to rub her hand across her eyes, and James put his arm around her shoulder. Alex looked steadily at Winn.

‘You should have told us.’ She clenched her hands into fists, unclenched them, looked around their small huddle, and said, ‘Okay. Who’s got any ideas?’

‘I do,’ said Kara, putting her glasses back on, and she told them. ‘And you,’ she said to Alex, ‘You are going to go after Maggie, because she’ll want to be part of this, and because you need to sort out whatever – _thing_ is going on with you. Okay? Now I need to make a phone call.’

A phone call, thought Alex. She’d go after Maggie. But first she needed to make one of those too.

*

Alex found silence at the top of the stairwell. Most people had gone home and there was no movement on the lower flights, nobody her voice would carry to even if she let it carry. Outside the rooftop was clear and Alex kept the door ajar with her foot once she’d reassured herself of isolation, but she didn’t go out to the open space where she’d be able to hear the traffic far below.

She typed a number into her phone. Under her breath while she waited for it to connect, Alex ran over the words she intended to say.

After four rings it was answered. ‘Hello? Who is this?’

‘Emily? It’s Alex Danvers. I think we need to talk.’

 

**M’gann’s Bar, 11.45pm**

The bar was as lively as usual for this time of night. Winn had gone home to fetch some computer gear, leaving Kara and James to find a table in the corner. Kara twirled her straw around in her drink, making a vortex, and tried to tell herself everything would be all right.

‘So,’ said James. ‘Do you want to talk about earlier?’

‘Which bit?’

‘Whichever bit is giving you that crinkle right now.’

Kara tried to smoothe out her expression. She did not have a _crinkle_ , and she was going to kill Alex for teaching James the word. (She knew “crinkle” was just a word, like, words were public property, anybody could say “crinkle”, but it was still Alex’s fault.)

‘Let’s see. Is it because we…’

‘No. That was nice,’ Kara said, truthfully. She’d liked kissing James. It had been surprisingly awkward but was, on balance, something she’d like to do again. The awkwardness was only because she’d had a crush on him since _forever._

‘So it’s because of the explosion,’ said James, like that was what he’d thought in the first place.

The explosion. Like Kara needed to think about that right now. If she hadn’t been there… They didn’t know yet who or what the intended buyer or target had been. Alex and Maggie’s initial “victim” had thoroughly lawyered up. It was beginning to look like he’d never been in the Tamarean tea trade at all. He’d been building and selling weaponry using technology developed on Tamaran and almost universally illegal on earth until the local science caught up. Collins, rather more effusive and keen to escape charges for shady but ultimately well-meant actions, had explained that the contents of the briefcase had exploded due to a chemical reaction upon coming into contact with air. Those were only the raw materials – once refined and shaped, the weapons produced would be capable of levelling city blocks.

Capable of levelling city blocks – a week _before_ they were detonated.

(Somebody was going to get a medal, a gagging order or both.)

Kara had liked kissing James. But she’d loved the sheer thrill and power of moving at superspeed. She’d nearly forgotten what it felt like: almost as good – but not quite as good – as flying. And she’d saved Maggie, without revealing herself to more than a handful of people, so Alex wasn’t going to say a damn thing about it.

She was going to be pissed about the next bit, though.

‘I think I need to do what Kal – Clark does,’ she found herself saying. ‘I’ve got all these powers and I can’t – I can’t _not_ use them to help people.’

James gave her a Look. Kara said, ‘What?’

‘I wonder who’ll be the first to get photos of the new super in action,’ he said, and Kara somehow didn’t think that was the real question, but right now it wasn’t worth pursuing. She shoved him playfully.

‘I wonder,’ she repeated.

They ordered another round of drinks. This time Kara’s came with a little umbrella. She passed it across to James’s beer, where she thought it looked very stylish.

‘There’s still the question of… Us,’ said James, picking the umbrella out so he could actually drink from the bottle.

‘Do you want there to be an “us”?’

‘I’d think I’d like there to be an “us”, yeah. I’d like that.’

It was strange, to be talking about this like it was a real, solid thing when a few hours ago it had been the stuff of – not fantasies, but a thing that might happen in the future, when the time was right, and suddenly the time was right _now_ because Kara was sick of sitting around waiting for her life to happen. Strange, and kind of scary, the way humans must feel on those flimsy rope bridges that swung beneath your feet. There was earth on the other side. It was a _good_ kind of strange.

She took James’s hand and felt his fingers twine through hers.

‘And you’re not intimidated by the thought of dating a –’ Kara lowered her voice, glancing round the bar. ‘A superhero?’

‘It sounds awesome.’

‘And if I didn’t have these powers at all?’

James frowned, but all he said was, ‘Then I’d be a little more concerned by your habit of jumping in front of explosives.’

Kara laughed, squeezed his hand (gently), and kissed him.

‘Well, this is all very lovey-dovey,’ said a new voice.

Ah. Brilliant timing. Kara broke off the kiss, and held her hand out to the newcomer. ‘Nice of you to finally show up.’

 

**Maggie’s Apartment, 12.15am**

Third floor. Second door on the left. Alex could have found her way to Maggie’s apartment blindfolded. She hesitated outside the green door, but only for a moment before knocking firmly.

It took Maggie a long time to answer. Her pyjamas were well-worn, and too big for her, and her eyes were red-rimmed, but she still raised her head to Alex regally. Alex thought she’d never seen anyone so beautiful in her life. Maggie’s expression was hard to read: beyond surprise, Alex thought, beyond suspicion, and into somewhere bleak and despairing. Almost nobody would have been able to tell.

‘I’m sorry if I woke you up.’

‘You didn’t,’ said Maggie. ‘Why are you here, Danvers?’

‘Well, partly because Kara sent me,’ said Alex. ‘About J’onn… But mostly because I think we should talk. Can I come in?’

Maggie, wordlessly, let her in. The door closed with a soft click behind them. Maggie sat at the kitchen counter, eyes on Alex, still not saying anything. It was Alex who wanted to talk. It was Alex who would have to start.

‘I spoke to Emily.’

A soft intake of breath from Maggie. Alex reached out, almost thoughtlessly, to rub her arm. She said, ‘I let you believe, when you were dating her, that I was over – what I said back then, about us.’ There was no need to clarify. Alex was confident Maggie remembered the day she meant. ‘I was never over it. I tried to tell myself you weren’t interested, but I don’t think I really believed that. I just didn’t want to… I was scared.’

‘Of what, Alex?’

‘I didn’t know until today. Until the explosion.’ Until the moment they were engulfed by light and Maggie had been standing _right there_ and Alex saw her world implode for a second; until the equally overwhelming relief of seeing that she was okay. Alex had known cops who wouldn’t date each other because it was dangerous to get attached. But Alex was already attached, already in too deep. Her heart already stuttered to watch Maggie in the field: she was brave and strong and smart but cops died out there, and those involved with aliens had a higher death rate than most.

So they shouldn’t waste any more time.

‘I thought I was going to lose you. And that’s when I realised just how scared I am of losing you.’

Maggie flinched.

Alex took a deep breath and continued, ‘You know, I always blamed the break-up on Emily. Why wouldn’t I? I was on your side. But I think some part of me guessed there was more to it than that.’

Emily had loved Maggie, and Alex, for all her anger at the CSI, had no other reason to think she was anything but a basically decent person. But Maggie had done something terrible enough to call Maggie names that didn’t bear repeating. Terrible enough to make her stop loving Maggie. The thought of it was almost more frightening than the physical dangers of their lives. Could the same thing happen to them?

‘That Emily really did see someone different for a while there. That even though you’re a good person –’

‘Maybe I’m just not,’ cut in Maggie, speaking for the first time in a while. ‘Maybe I’m not a good person. You know what I did now, don’t you?’

Alex clutched at her hands. ‘No, Maggie, that’s not –’ She cast about for the words. ‘I know you didn’t do it on a whim, or to be cruel. That’s not the Maggie Sawyer I know.’

‘You think you know me, Alex?’

‘Yeah. I think I know you.’ Alex met her gaze and Maggie, miraculously, didn’t look away. ‘I know how kind and thoughtful you are. I know how much you care about people. And I know Emily isn’t the first relationship you’ve sabotaged because it’s easier to drive them away with an awful version of yourself than wait until the real you isn’t wanted. That’s what you’re scared of, isn’t it? That you won’t be wanted. Or that you don’t deserve to be. That’s what people have been telling you, all your life.’

She reached up to stroke Maggie’s cheek. ‘It’s nonsense. It’s not true. I need you to know that, whatever happens between us. I know what you’ve done and I am telling you, Maggie Sawyer, that you deserve to be loved. And I – for what it’s worth, I don’t think it would be possible for me to hate you.’

Because she did know Maggie. She knew her too well.

‘And if you think it would be easier to stay friends…’ she said, because she had to give Maggie the out, had to give her the option. But Maggie had forced out a choked laugh, trapping Alex’s hand under her own.

‘Alex. Easier? You think _that_ would be easier?’

To work with Maggie every day and never touch her, never kiss her, watch her date other people, force herself to do the same and wonder what they could have been – no. Alex did not think it would be easier. But this would not be easy. Alex was sure it wouldn’t end in hatred; she couldn’t say the same for heartbreak.

Maggie said, ‘I can’t believe you really want to…’

‘Well, I do.’ Alex took a deep breath. ‘More than I’ve wanted anything in my life.’

‘Even knowing what I’m capable of? Alex, I don’t want to hurt you.’

‘Then don’t.’

The words hung in the air between them. Alex heard others behind them and wondered if Maggie could hear them too. _I trust you._ As reckless as driving blindfolded or walking on a half-frozen pond, and – how could she trust Maggie _more_ , knowing what she’d done? But no, it wasn’t that. That was hardly the only thing Alex had learned tonight.

Maggie tilted her head. ‘Alex…’

‘I’m going to keep telling you until you believe it. You’re _not_ a bad person. You’re perfect. A bit screwed up, okay, but isn’t everyone? I still care so, so much about you and I’d like to stop pretending it’s only as friends because it’s not, for me, and I don’t think it is for you either. Maggie, please.’

Please. Either say yes or throw me out. She’d said her piece, run out of words, couldn’t fully remember what point she was trying to make – now it was on Maggie. Maggie, bright-eyed, gorgeous Maggie, and Alex still couldn’t quite read her expression but at least it was no longer bleak.

Then she couldn’t read anything because Maggie had surged forward to kiss her. Alex barely had time to get over her shock before Maggie pulled back, a question in her eyes. Alex nodded. She couldn’t keep her smile restrained and she saw Maggie, finally, smile in echo of it; and this time Alex wasn’t sure who moved first, only that they’d come together again.

It felt like coming home.

Alex kissed Maggie on the cheek, on her fluttering eyelids, and on the forehead, and Maggie let herself be drawn into a tight hug. She buried her face in the crook of Alex’s neck. Alex wrapped both arms around her strong frame and twisted her hands through the fabric of Maggie’s pyjamas. They were very soft.

‘You’re not crying, are you?’ she asked Maggie.

‘ _No._ ’

‘I always knew you liked me, Sawyer.’

‘Yeah, whatever.’

They stayed like that for a little while. Maggie shifted, yawning into Alex’s shoulder, and Alex kissed the top of her hair. ‘Do you want to come and help get J’onn’s job back?’

‘What do you think, Danvers?’

 

**The Bullpen, 8.00am**

Winn had fallen asleep at his desk. Three equally sleep-deprived detectives stood in a semicircle around him, discussing the ethics and probable usefulness of pouring cold water over his head. Maggie leaned against Alex’s side, and Alex hitched an arm around her waist to keep her upright.

‘God, I hope Kara gets back soon,’ said Maggie.

The microwave had yet to be repaired. They’d taken one look at the sludge from the coffeemaker and Maggie had announced she’d rather drink Tamarean tea. So Kara, the only one still annoyingly chipper on far too little sleep, had offered to make a coffee run.

A whole half hour ago.

There was nobody else in the room but Lucy Lane, James’s ex and a lieutenant in the 99th precinct when not trying to commit professional patricide. Currently, she was keeping herself awake by sharpening a hefty knife. It was Lucy that Kara had initially got in touch with in the hope she’d have something incriminating on the other, less likeable Lane. And she had. For all the use it was proving to be.

James poked Winn’s hand with a pencil. Winn muttered something and moved his hand away without waking up. ‘Is he … drooling?’ said James.

The elevator doors slid open and they looked up – then shared groans of disappointment. Not Kara. J’onn, frowning at them in consternation. He looked at his watch, then back at them as if he could tell from their faces why they were all here an hour early and why they’d shooed off the night shift.

‘Is Lane here?’

‘Okay, don’t get mad,’ said Alex. ‘Deputy Chief Lane is going to be a bit late.’

‘What do you mean, “late”?’

‘She means he’s got to go get his ass handed to him by the chief,’ said Maggie, then put her hand over her mouth. Under the influence of J’onn’s raised eyebrow, she added, ‘Because the chief knows everything.’

‘And how did the chief become acquainted with the situation since last night?’

‘J’onn,’ – not the right name, but screw it, Alex was tired – ‘This is the bit where you don’t get mad.’

She was saved explaining by Kara’s arrival, with a heavenly supply of coffee and doughnuts straight from Noonan’s. (She’d even managed not to eat all the doughnuts.) Alex shook Winn, and he blinked around with a, ‘Whuh?’

J’onn accepted a doughnut.

They waited.

Alex rubbed her wrists, still sore from roughly-applied handcuffs, and gulped down too-hot coffee while Kara distracted their captain in a pointless conversation about trigonometry.

There were no doughnuts remaining and even Winn had woken up when the elevator opened again and two figures stepped out: one hulking, the other diminutive, but nonetheless intimidating in clickety-clack heels and perfect make-up. Maggie dragged Winn to his feet. Everybody else scrambled upright to salute the chief.

‘Oh, at ease, all of you,’ she said, in a bored drawl. ‘Isn’t this quite the crowd?’

‘Oh, wow!’ hissed Kara. ‘I didn’t know she was coming too!’

‘You met her last night,’ said Alex, in a low voice.

‘That was different. I thought she was going to fire us!’

Alex flashed her sister a stop-talking look. She didn’t really want to be told off for whispering right now. Kara had a point, though: they’d spent a portion of last night handcuffed and lined up along a wall, waiting for the chief to show up and tear into them. That had been a fun half-hour, gritting their teeth under the jibes of the security officers who were infuriatingly pleased with themselves for catching the holier-than-thou science division detectives in breach of _so_ many regulations and a couple of actual laws. The words “alien lovers” had been thrown around. So much for public outreach.

Then the chief had shown up, and it hadn’t gone the way any of them expected.

There hadn’t exactly been time for fangirling, and it was clearly killing her sister to restrain herself now. Alex had to admit herself, the chief _was_ something of a legend.

J’onn said, with remarkable composure, ‘Chief Grant. Welcome to my – to the science division. I came in early this morning to offer my resignation to Deputy Chief Lane. I believe my team have some, ah, reservations.’

‘If you mean they think it’s ridiculous, then yes, you could call that a “reservation”. You’re not going anywhere, captain. Sam!’

The deputy chief shuffled forward. Alex watched Kara bite her lip, trying not to grin; felt Maggie’s hand tighten around her own; saw the others looking on with politely controlled, expectant expressions.

‘Captain… Henshaw. Upon further consideration, I now see that I may have been… quick to judge… based on unsubstantiated rumour. You are truly an asset to the NYPD. Your resignation is not required, and your team will remain intact. I am deeply sorry for any trouble I have put you through.’

Alex wondered if the chief had only drafted the short speech, or coached him on delivery as well. But the admission of surrender was as clearly meant as the apology was forced. She doubted the deputy chief would try anything in future, if only because he understood he was now under close observation.

Chief Grant nodded. ‘That appears to be all,’ she said. She’d set the briefcase she carried on a desk and now she pulled a set of papers from it. ‘We won’t be needing these,’ she said, tearing them into four and tossing them in a bin. They were followed by a black, angular object: ‘I believe this belongs to somebody.’

Winn scrambled to fetch it from her. ‘It’s mine! I mean, yes, Chief, that would be mine, thank you so much for bringing it back.’ He sat down heavily with the drone cradled in his hands.

Alex smacked him on the shoulder. ‘I’m going to throw that thing out a window.’

‘Danvers, it _flies_ ,’ said Winn. Though it wasn’t in much of a shape to be flying now, after one of the officers had trodden on it. It was thanks to the drone they’d been caught in the first place, using an ID stolen by Lucy to break into the deputy chief’s office. Not their best plan, Alex thought. If their mom ever found out, she’d blame it all on Kara.

To J’onn, Chief Grant said, ‘Keep up the good work,’ and he pulled himself up straight for a salute which he didn’t relax until the elevator’s little lights told them it was two floors down.

Deputy Chief Lane had stayed, and was coughing at his daughter meaningfully.

‘Yes, Dad?’

The expression went that you could have heard a pin drop. What everybody actually heard was half a rotary blade hitting the captain’s window after it slipped out of Winn’s grasp.

‘I’m your father, Lucy,’ the elder Lane pleaded.

‘And I love you but that’s never stopped me from disagreeing with you. You’re better than this.’ She rose, twined her arm through his and patted him on the shoulder. ‘Come on. I know this wonderful French place that does breakfast… Oh, and Kara,’ she called over her shoulder. ‘If James gives you any trouble, call me. I know all the embarrassing stories.’

Kara went pink. ‘Um. Uh. Thanks, Lucy.’

That left the team. It was still early-morning quiet in the bullpen. Alex downed the rest of her coffee, no longer hot enough to scald her tongue, and watched the others work through what had just happened.

The captain got there first. ‘I suggest we should all get to work,’ he said. He narrowed his eyes at Winn, covering his yawn with two cupped hands. ‘Or possibly, in Mr Schott’s case, to bed.’

 

**The Break Room, 1.15pm**

Winn had slept most of the morning away curled up by the lockers and returned, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, around lunch time. When the drone landed in the middle of everybody’s lunch, Alex snatched it aside.

‘No!’ she said. ‘I don’t want bit of wire in my burrito. Fix the microwave!’

Winn pouted and stole one of Maggie’s saltine crackers. Maggie pretended not to notice.

‘Winn, you still owe Kara twenty dollars,’ said James.

‘Why does Winn owe Kara twenty dollars?’ asked Maggie.

‘Because _I_ won the betting pool on when you two –’ Kara indicated Alex and Maggie. ‘Would get together.’

Maggie looked between them in horror. Alex took a bite of burrito to hide her smile. She could guess what was coming: ‘You had a bet on that I didn’t know about?’

‘You were the subject of the bet, Maggie.’

‘So?’

Kara spread her hands helplessly.

‘Okay, were you betting on _how_ we’d get together? Who had, “kiss to maintain cover while on a stakeout?” What, nobody?’

Alex put an arm around Maggie, pulling her in to kiss her on the cheek. ‘Let it go, babe.’

Maggie shook her head. ‘Amateurs,’ she muttered, slapping Winn’s hand away from a second saltine cracker. She shifted herself just a couple of inches closer to Alex, so they were pressed together side-by-side, and Alex barely noticed the teasing emanating from across the table in her silent wonder at how well she fitted there.

Absolutely perfect.

 

**Author's Note:**

> This was a freaking nightmare to write. I hate plot. Emotions are much easier to deal with. (Never thought I’d be saying that.) Everything I know about the NYPD I learned from Brooklyn 99 and Castle, it’s so long since I saw Season 1 of Supergirl I can’t tell if I’m mangling Sam Lane’s character (or anyone else’s), I think I'm trying to be too clever for my own good or anyone else's, and… yeah. I am really, really glad this is finished.
> 
> I’m going to go write some nice hurt/comfort about Sanvers dealing with Maggie’s family now. Actually, no, I’m going to binge-watch American Gods, then write the hurt/comfort. And it probably won’t be nice.
> 
> Comments are carrots for plot bunnies. Leave a comment. Feed a bunny.


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